


Flashlight Fury

by 2001DoubleD33



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angry James Wilson, Episode: s05e04 Birthmarks, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Wilson spanks House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2001DoubleD33/pseuds/2001DoubleD33
Summary: Based on alternate events during S05, E04, 'Birthmarks'.Wilson gets pissed off that House can't just let him leave.Old story I dug up, hope you like!





	Flashlight Fury

Almost dying changes nothing. Dying changes everything.

 

The words, spoken by none other than himself quite a few weeks ago, now rolled around in House's head. Nothing had changed the meaning of the words, nor the weight, but House had yet to learn the effect of them so ultimately. Still angrily sulking about being so needlessly tricked into going to the funeral, he twisted his fingers around his cane. The chill of the vending machine pop can in his fingers only vaguely brought his attention away from the throbbing ache in his leg. He took a sip of the drink and began hobbling his way over to Wilson again, intending to do two things; attempt to convince him to turn around and go home, and to ask for another Vicodin.

 

As he approached, he saw Wilson turn with a stretched out metal hanger, winding up a flashlight with a vigor that only came after dealing with the annoyances House brought on. Head tilted down, he cast a testing glance up towards the crippled man, patience thinning understandably quick. He puffed a sigh and continue to crank the hefty flashlight.

 

“You actually keep a flashlight that doesn't need batteries in the trunk?” House pondered, intrigued,”Next to the jacket, emergency water, nail clippers, toothbrush, space blanket-,”

 

Wilson rolled his eyes,”When things go wrong I like to be ready,” he seemed to struggle with figuring out which object to hold, glancing between the coat hanger, to the flashlight, then back to house,”Will you...please hold the flashlight for a minute,”

 

House pursed his lips, thinking for a minute, before he stepped forward and took the flashlight from Wilson. He knelt, and slowly guided the flashlight into the storm drain. A distant clattering pulled a smug gaze over his face, and he stood again.Wilson took a wavering breath to calm down

 

“You know those aren't just my car keys. My house keys are on there too. Amber gave me that keychain.

 

“No she didn’t,” House scoffed,”Not unless your pet name for her was Volvo,” he raised an eyebrow at Wilson as he stalked back to his car and pull a second wind up flashlight from his trunk,”A man who would lie about a gift from a dead girlfriend…”

 

“Is probably responding to a childish, pointless act of petulance,” Wilson ended his statement with a warning gaze.

 

“The struggle to resist one's captors is never pointless,” House hummed, then lifted his cane and with a guttural shout called,”Vive la Résistance!” And promptly dropped his cane down across Wilsons knuckles for the second time that day.

 

Wilson yanked his hand away from the strike, watching, helpless, as his second flashlight toppled down the drain. His final strand of patience was pulled taught, and now finally snapped. He climbed to his feet with an angry shout.

 

“ _ House _ !” 

 

The furious call of his name not only startled the doctor, but the people around the little rest stop all perked their heads, even if briefly. Wilson dropped his head, hands clenching at his sides as his anger boiled over. He tossed the coat hanger in the trunk, returning it its emergency spot, and slammed the trunk before storming towards the rest stop bathroom, hoping to space himself away from house so he could clear his head. Unfortunately for him, House was as stubborn as he was annoying. Not a moment after he had swung open the bathroom door did House do just the same, and Wilson shut his eyes, listening to the empty room echo with the sound.

 

“Why can't you just…” Wilson grit the words through his teeth, but was unable to finish his sentence and instead shook his head, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Submit to you bullying me into going to a funeral where I hate the guy in the coffin? Yeah, sure thing,” House clipped.

 

The clattering thud of Wilson's fist against the side of the stall made House drop his calm, smug demeanor for a split second.

 

“ _ Bully _ you?” Wilson barked,”Are you kidding me?” Wilson opened his mouth to say more, but a man entered the room and mosied over to the urinal. 

 

Wilson dropped his head, eyes once again shut. They both heard the trickling of mother nature's call in the corner of the room.

 

“I have never done anything but indulge your childish, selfish whims,” Wilson bit out, quietly,

 

“You did not,” House rolled his eyes, as though he was above the situation,”You argued with me all the time. I can't remember a week without a lecture from you,”

 

“You think I lecture for my own health?” Wilson's voice rose, but he quickly quieted again as the man zipped himself up and walked to the bathroom door calmly. 

 

House scrunched his nose at the fact that he had not washed his hands,”If you were concerned for your health you would have stopped being friends with me a long time ago,”

 

Wilson threw his hands up,”Right, great. First you complain I left, now my leaving is something I was late on? Forget it,” he stepped towards the door.

 

House lifted his hand and stopped it against Wilsons chest,”First you come in here to sulk now you wanna leave to sulk?” His words vaguely echoed Wilson’s.

 

“House, just let me go,” Wilson spoke slowly.

 

“No,” House returned,”We're both staying until you agree to turn the car back to the hospital and stop this stupid honor mission to make me  _ feel _ .”

 

“Fine, you want me in here?” Wilson lifted his hand and snatched the cane from Houses hand; it clattered loudly onto the tile floor.

 

Before House could be angry about the loss of his cane to a disgusting floor, Wilson advanced on him. He shoved him around, against the wall of the room. House grunted, his face smashed against the cold wall, and reached back to push Wilson away. Instead, Wilson fumbled and grabbed his arm, pushing it against House's back. Anger bubbled in his chest like he hadn't known before. Something about the fact that he was forced to be here, forced to put up with House again, drove him crazy. He wanted to punch him some days, now more than ever. He couldn't, only because he wouldn't be able to explain the black eye when they got to the funeral. He was out twenty bucks for two new flashlights, and a helluva charge for a locksmith if he couldn't manage to get those keys back. He wanted to hate him so badly, to fight him and end this. He was such a child! And maybe as a child… he ought to be dealt with like one.

 

That's why, when his hand crashed down against House's ass, he felt no remorse for the sharp breath that followed.

 

“You think you can keep pushing me around and you're not going to have consequences to deal with?” Wilson continued his barrage of thundering smacks against the seat of his jeans,”I-I'm done with that. I'm done! I was supposed to be done with you, and leave but  _ no _ , I can't even walk away!”

 

Not a word from House, nor a sound aside from the initial gasp, and Wilson continued uninterrupted,”You are  _ laced _ with every single part of my life! I thought a move and quitting would cut it, but I still have subscriptions I paid for you, I get bills from accounts you've hacked the password to- it never stops, House!” 

 

The empty room rang with each wallop against House's jeans. Wilson's hand had begun to ache, but he didn't waver, his adrenaline rushing through the tips of his fingers. House just had way of getting under his skin and getting on his last nerve, and Wilson was damn sure sick of it. Still not a word from House, but he pushed a heavy breath out of his nose, and his weight shifted onto his good leg more. Wilson paid no mind and continued to scold him.

 

“You destroy my things, you insult me, you do nothing to- to deserve…!” Wilson raised his hand, but this time it didn't fall, and instead remained hung in the air, nothing but their breathing to fill the silence.

 

Finally, his grip on House's wrist loosened and his hand dropped to his side again. 

 

He sighed shakily,”You got so angry when I left,” he spoke lowly,”But here I am, with hours of driving alone with you, and you haven't done anything but prove that I made the right choice,”

 

House, gingerly, turned a bit to lean on the counter as Wilson backed away. His eyes flickered up to the mirror to look through it at James, but he dropped his gaze again quickly. The man pinched the bridge of his nose again and sighed.The door swung open again and entered a man with his son.

 

“Get your cane,” James said softly,”I'm calling a locksmith,” He walked to the door and returned outside

 

House eased himself off the wall a bit further, wetting his lips and glancing behind him to the son and father, who looked as though they were headed fishing. House looked around the stall to where his cane had been thrown. Glancing at the father, who stared back uncertainly, he nodded his head.

 

“Would you mind,” he said slowly, voice hoarse, hobbling over to the paper towel dispenser and snatching a few.

 

“Oh! Yeah of course,” the man said, stepping over to the item and picking it up.

 

House accepted it with another jerk of his head,”Thanks,”

 

He dampened the towel and wiped off his cane, untrusting of the germs on the bathroom floor. He leaned heavily on it again and left the little restroom, feeling a sinking pit in his chest.

 

Out by the car, Wilson's driver side door was open, and he was sitting in the front seat. As Greg stepped closer, he head his voice on the phone, speaking in clear syllables to the bot on the other end. House hobbled himself closer and walked to the drivers side, cautious about approaching the man or interrupting him.

 

Wilson cast him a glance as Greg lifted his cane to push the lever that opened the trunk, but only frowned and continued talking on the phone. Grege didn't meet his eyes, and returned to the back of the car where he pulled the coat hanger free from the trunk. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and cranked up the brightness until he saw the glimmer of the keys.

 

Wilson, curiosity gaining his attention over the phone call, stood from the car and walked back to the storm drain. He had to do a double take for what he was seeing.

 

“I'll… yeah uh, don't send anyone please, everything is okay… now…” Wilson mumbled into the phone and hung up with a snap.

 

House was knelt on the curb, nudging the coat hanger into the drain. His eyes were turned downwards, and he had a grimace on his face; briefly Wilson wondered if it was his leg or his backside. Nevertheless, House dragged the keys up from the storm drain slowly. Finally, he lifted them off of the hooked end of the hanger and set them in the grass.

 

“House,” Wilson said, a little bit shell shocked by the sudden almost timid demeanor of the great Greg House.

 

He didn't move as Wilson said his name other than to stand, though his eyes flickered around instead of looking at Wilson,”You should probably wash them first,” he mumbled, leaning heavy on his cane and twisting his fingers around the wooden item,”I'll.. Buy you a new flashlight,”

 

Wilson, still silent from shock, watched him walk to the passenger side of the car and stop, staring at the seat. He licked his lips and glanced around, leaning on the top of the car.

 

“I'll wait,”

 

James blinked a bit, wondering why he hadn't just climbed into the seat, until the throb in his hand flared. Oh. Right. He scratched the back of his neck and strolled over to the grass to pick up his keys. A rag used for oil checks was retrieved from his trunk, and Wilson made his way up to the wash house again to rinse them off. The mechanic unlock was useless already, there was no point in sacrificing cleanliness for function.

 

He returned to the car with clean, washed keys. Seeing him approach, House climbed into the car. To his credit, he looked as grumpy as he always did, and pain couldn’t be traced on his features. James started the car, pulling his door closed. His fingers tapped against the wheel, thinking.

 

“So that… in there…” He trailed his words, unsure how to approach it.

 

“Just drive, Wilson,” House shifted in his seat, turning his eyes out the window.

 

”Okay.”

 

Wilson drove.


End file.
